


This Was Never Meant for You and I

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Hate Sex, M/M, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Unhealthy Relationships, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:39:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When he’s feeling in control of the situation, the clearest reasoning Ravus can conjure for the craving is that the two of them serve as dark mirrors to the other, reflecting the secret, forbidden places where their howling daemons can be quieted, if only for hours at a time. As much as it pains Ravus to admit it, even to himself, even in the privacy of his thoughts (the only private place left to him), the two of them hold imperfect copies of a gaping crater of loss inside their chests, one they try to fill with anything that vaguely fits the shape—including each other.Ravus continues to seek out Gladiolus' company for relief.





	This Was Never Meant for You and I

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following kinkmeme prompt: "Gladio pissing on Ravus, with the both of them being stupidly turned on by it. The nature of their relationship is up to you, as long as the whole thing is consensual.  
> The whole "degradation" aspect may be played out further, but the watersports aspect should be front and center."

How Ravus keeps ending up in Gladiolus’ cramped Lestallum apartment, a one bedroom affair kept tidy—if not clean enough for Ravus’ impeccable standards—is a mystery for the ages. Stranger things are occurring all around Eos at large, from the disappearance of the sun to the disappearance of the _Chosen King_ (he still can’t use the title without a derisive curl of his lip, no matter that the boy made the decision to go into stasis himself.) 

Ravus possesses a brilliant mind, and logically he knows he and Gladiolus can’t stand one another, even though their goals are aligned now that the world has changed, and yet…

He can’t stay away.

The craving for these wanton, aggressive, primal meetings comes on as strongly as the phantom pain in his missing arm at times, intense and stabbing, the ache of it overtaking him in the middle of the night and dragging him into embarrassing, lengthy sessions where he bucks into his own fist until he comes, sobbing with relief when the thought of Gladiolus’ face allows him to find release, to paint his own stomach white with rope after rope of hot, sticky finish.

When he’s feeling in control of the situation, the clearest reasoning Ravus can conjure for the craving is that the two of them serve as dark mirrors to the other, reflecting the secret, forbidden places where their howling daemons can be quieted, if only for hours at a time. As much as it pains Ravus to admit it, even to himself, even in the privacy of his thoughts (the only private place left to him), the two of them hold imperfect copies of a gaping crater of loss inside their chests, one they try to fill with anything that vaguely fits the shape—including each other. 

“Gotta piss,” Gladiolus mutters, abandoning his pile of clothes in the middle of the floor and lumbering nude to the bathroom, any trace of his usual grace and control gone.

Sometimes, like now, the reasoning seems far more base, far more simple: Gladiolus is strong, attractive, and unafraid to _hurt_ him in the ways Ravus needs like water, like air, like the missing sun, which means Ravus doesn’t have to _like_ him in order to find satisfaction in him.

“Would you like a round of applause?” Ravus bites off each word like he’s chewing on a mouthful of aluminum foil before tugging his shirt off over his head, careful not to catch the edges of his prosthetic arm on the fabric. His pants follow quickly after. If he doesn’t remove them fast enough, they’re liable to get ripped in the ensuing chaos. Neither he nor Gladiolus have time or patience for _gentle_ when they manage to meet.

Gladiolus doesn’t even bother to close to door to the minuscule bathroom of the apartment, scratching at the dark patch of curls between his legs with one hand and flipping the toilet seat up with the other. It’s sickeningly domestic, and disrespectful, and still Ravus finds his gaze lingering on Gladiolus’ tanned, tattooed muscles as he takes his thick, flaccid cock in hand and begins to urinate.

“No one knows the Lucian court was a complete menagerie better than I, but the least you could do is close the door,” Ravus snarks.

“You got a problem with it, you’re welcome to leave,” Gladiolus offers with the shrug of one broad shoulder.

It’s his sigh that sends Ravus spiralling even deeper into depravity.

As the pale yellow stream of urine grows in speed and volume, Gladiolus lets out a tiny sigh, his eyes fluttering closed, and the expression is so close to his face when he climaxes—on the rare occasion Ravus has gotten to see it—that Ravus feels his cock begin to stir. The reason they call it relieving oneself, the more euphemistic term for such an act, becomes crystal clear to Ravus in that moment. His imagination takes the desire he feels and mixes it with the picture at hand, and all he can think of for several long, aching, desperate moments, is Gladio standing above him, one meaty hand holding his proportionately girthy, soft cock as he relieves himself on Ravus, drenching his face and hair and chest with hot, slightly acrid smelling urine. He’s so embarrassed, so _ashamed_ by the very thought that he’s completely hard where he sits on the bed, unable to tear his gaze away from Gladiolus, who seems nearly finished with the task at hand, given that the steady flow has slowed to a trickle.

Ravus’ mistake lies in allowing Gladiolus to notice him watching.

No matter what flaws Ravus can lay at Gladiolus’ feet, being oblivious isn’t one of them. His whiskey coloured eyes, currently outlined by dark smudges of exhaustion, take on a knowing glint as they travel down Ravus’ body to rest on the erection standing proudly (or perhaps shamefully) between his thighs. Gladiolus makes eye contact as he shakes his dick a few times over the toilet and keeps it in his grip as he flushes, an indolent smirk spreading across his full lips.

“You like watching me piss that much, huh?” The question is so casually arrogant, so self-assured, that it makes Ravus bristle with anger even as the heat in his belly grows hotter. 

“How you managed to arrive at _that_ conclusion is truly a marvel. With powers of observation such as those, I’m certain you’ll be promoted to the Captaincy in no time,” Ravus shoots back, and he hates (and loves, _Gods_ , hates that he loves) how shaky, how reed-thin his voice sounds.

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself to sleep at night.” Gladiolus washes his hands quickly—another contemptible wave of arousal courses through Ravus as he thinks of Gladiolus spreading his hole open with his urine still lingering on his hands—and prowls towards Ravus’ position on the bed, barrel chested and drawn up to his full height. Judging by the way Gladiolus’ cock has begun to swell against his thigh, Ravus isn’t the only one affected by this sudden change in the paradigm. “Get on your hands and knees. I’m tired of looking at your face tonight.”

The first time Gladiolus made this demand of him, Ravus had put up a fight—not a sincere one, just enough of one to afford him the thread to stitch his shredded pride together later. On occasion, he still resists, if only for the satisfaction of leaving bloody bitemarks and fist shaped bruises before Gladiolus fucks him senseless. Tonight, he simply shoves his burning face into one of the thin pillows at the head of the bed, settles his weight onto his elbows, and lifts his ass in the air, presenting it for Gladiolus’ use.

And use it he does.

Gladiolus, by now, knows what makes Ravus hot, what turns him into a mewling mess with no room for thoughts of Luna or The Empire or the fact that he chose the wrong Six-cursed side, after all. He knows too much, really, but the first cool whispers of alleviation unfold through his limbs as Gladiolus shoves two slick, rough, thick fingers inside his hole in one go. Ravus sometimes begs for Gladiolus to take him without preparation, and sometimes he gets his wish, but tonight doesn’t seem to be one of those times. However, he must be feeling a degree of the impatience that Ravus feels, because the fingers disappear sooner than Ravus expects; he whines into the cotton pillowcase as the familiar girth of Gladiolus’ cock fills him to the brim in one brutal slide.

“Yes,” he half whispers, half sobs into the pillowcase as Gladiolus begins to move, each rocking of hips threatening to split him wide open and spill all his self-recrimination with it. 

The bass of Gladiolus’ laugh, deep and proud and so very gently _mocking_ , only makes Ravus say the word again and again—yes, yes, _yes_.

For a time, they lapse into silence, the carnal cadence filling the room with the slapping sound of skin against skin. Ravus can feel Gladiolus’ testicles slap against the back of his thighs each time he buries his cock completely inside Ravus, and he relishes in the sensation. He doesn’t touch himself—in the unwritten rules of their unlabeled liaison, the rule that Ravus can’t come until Gladiolus allows him to do so is paramount. As much as Ravus wants to spiral _out_ of control to ease the ever-present despair like miasma inside him, Gladiolus needs to be _in_ it, and Ravus can’t bring himself to be angry when control means more of Gladiolus’ attentions.

Almost as soon as Ravus senses the possibility of orgasm within his reach, Gladiolus slows his pace, making each thrust deliberate, going slowly enough that Ravus can feel the head of his cock breach his sensitive rim each time he withdraws. He’s about to try and find the energy to complain when Gladiolus speaks.

“I bet you’d fuckin’ love it if I pulled out and pissed all over you right now.” 

Even biting down on the pillow next to his lips doesn’t stop the loud, lewd moan from escaping Ravus’ lips.

_Damn._

“If anyone knew how _nasty_ you are—” A _hard_ thrust, angled towards Ravus’ prostate, makes him gasp aloud. “—they’d like you even less—” Ravus whimpers as Gladio shoves his cock deep inside his ass, hard enough that he may have bruises on his asscheeks. “—than they already do.”

Involuntary tears trickle from the corners of Ravus’ eyes, staining the cotton of the pillow. _Astrals_ , he detests that he’s like this, that he’s wired this way, to take pleasure in the most abject of words and deeds. “Shut _up_ , Gladiolus,” Ravus hisses.

He does pause, but he leans over Ravus’ back until his lips are right by Ravus’ ear. His thrusts become faster again, short and shallow with the depth afforded to him by the change in position, each one pistoning straight up against Ravus’ prostate. “Since you love when I fill your tight ass with come, I bet you’d like it even more if I held my cock inside you and filled you to the brim with piss.”

Ravus wants to protest, but before he can find the words, his muscles begin to contract in a familiar clench, pleasure smothering him in a suffocating wave. He’s coming, he’s coming and he can’t help himself, cock pulsing in harsh, involuntary spurts, covering the sheets below him with spurts of cloudy white finish, limbs shuddering in a liquid tremble. Gladiolus holds steady inside him as Ravus succumbs—he usually does, a reminder of who made him feel this way.

Gladiolus groans into Ravus’ ear, his cock still stretching and filling Ravus’ ass. After a deep breath, he growls, “that’s what I thought.”

He was right.

* * *

It takes all of three days for Gladiolus to act on this new information.

No sooner than he lets Ravus inside his apartment, he trains those wide, amber eyes on him. “Strip and go kneel in the tub.” The fact that he takes a long, casual sip from a glass of water makes Ravus’ heart begin an erratic protest inside his chest.

“Truly? I’ve only just arrived back from a twelve hour hunt. I’d at least like to _bathe_ prior to whatever you have in mind.”

“Trust me, you’re not gonna need a bath before. Maybe after,” Gladiolus remarks, smirking.

 _Six_.

No matter how much the world has changed, Ravus was still bred as a Prince of Tenebrae, and he summons his considerable control and self discipline in order to walk calmly to the bathroom and begin to take off his clothes. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the toothpaste-spotted mirror and winces—even his face is dirty, and somehow, that mortifies him more than the prospect of what Gladiolus taking a long drink of water might mean. Still, Ravus finds himself growing desirous from the mere act of entering Gladiolus’ apartment and following an order from him, so after he finishes removing his clothes, he folds them neatly and sets them on the tank of the toilet.

Then he kneels in the tub and waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

Gladiolus follows him into the bathroom. Ravus notes that he has his hair tied back from his face today, that his beard is fuller than the last time he saw Gladiolus, and that he looks undeniably _hungry_ as he regards Ravus, long limbs folded into the best approximation of a kneel he can manage in the cramped tub. The low noise Gladiolus makes in the back of his throat sends prickles of desire across Ravus’ skin; the way Gladiolus strides forward, threads his hand in Ravus’ hair, and tugs his head backwards turns the prickle into an outright inferno.

“You have one chance to say no. Otherwise, I really have to piss, and I’m gonna do it right here, all over you,” Gladiolus says, voice low, eyes latched onto Ravus’.

Ravus forgets how to breathe for several seconds, choking on air and spit. When he _does_ remember how to breathe, it comes in a hissing wheeze due to the angle Gladiolus is holding his head, his throat constricted.

“Do it, then.” Gladiolus lets go of Ravus’ head with a little shove and nudges down his sweatpants, just enough to expose the soft, heavy length of him. He takes his cock in hand and aims it at Ravus’ chest.

And then… he begins to _piss_.

When the stream first hits Ravus’ chest, all he can think is how much _hotter_ it is than he expected, almost as hot as blood, the temperature a stark contrast to the cool porcelain against his knees. His cock stiffens immediately, the act of Gladiolus urinating on him humiliating in the best way, warm rivulets dribbling down his back and between his thighs as Gladiolus covers him in liquid waste. Ravus remembers, in the distant part of him not consumed by need sparked from degradation, to look up at Gladiolus, and he finds the relief in Gladiolus’ eyes from before commingled with fierce, intense, _heated_ desire. The smell of his piss is enough to cause a bead of precome to well from the tip of Ravus’ cock, his dick fully hard and hanging between his pale thighs; he expected it to be more unpleasant, but Ravus finds he sincerely _enjoys_ the musky, ammonia tinged scent far more than he should.

He wonders how it might taste and, as though sensing the thought, the stream moves upward, pouring over Ravus’ neck. Ravus has the sense to close his eyes before Gladiolus starts to piss on his face and in his hair. The heat of his urine has stayed the same, and Ravus shamefully darts his tongue out, hoping to catch any stray droplet that streams down his face.

“Keep your mouth open.”

Astrals help him—not that the Astrals have ever been any help to him, ever—he does.

Gladiolus pisses all over his lips and cheeks in a steady, hot stream, soaking his hair and coating his face. The wash of warm liquid across the back of his eyelids makes him grab his cock by instinct, jerking himself off with his flesh and blood hand.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Gladiolus moans from somewhere above him. “You actually like this shit, don’t you?”

Ravus can’t respond with his mouth open and tongue stuck out, tasting the salt and faint bitterness of Gladiolus’ urine. He can groan though, which he does, enthusiastically, savouring the wet, warm pressure of Gladiolus pissing all over his face and hair.

Eventually—too soon—it stops. Ravus supposes there’s only so much liquid one bladder can feasibly hold, but all the same, disappointment surges within him, aching for more, for Gladiolus to use him in the same way he’d use a toilet, without a second thought. When he opens his eyes, pale yellow droplets fall from his eyelashes; Gladiolus still holds his cock in one hand, but his expression has turned hungry, and Ravus watches as his erection swells in his hand without any physical encouragement on Gladiolus’s part.

“Answer me,” he growls, accompanying the demand with a sharp slap across Ravus’ face, and then a tug of his hair, wet with piss.

“Yes,” Ravus keens, eyes fluttering closed again. He can still feel the draining puddles of Gladiolus’ copious amount of urine around his knees, and he wishes faintly that he was allowed to lower himself and lap the puddles up, if only for the chance to taste it again.

He feels the head of Gladiolus’ cock nudge at his lips while his eyes are still closed, and as naturally as breathing, parts his lips, desperate for the feel of Gladiolus’ cock in his mouth, for the faint taste of piss lingering at the head of his dick.

“Slut,” Gladiolus growls, and then he begins to use Ravus’ mouth in the same way that he uses his ass, and Ravus dissolves into nothing but pure need as he does.

Once Gladiolus is fully hard, Ravus can’t help but choke on his cock, as thick and long as it is, pressing at the back of his throat each time Gladiolus moves his hips forward. There are two hands on either side of his face, holding him still as his mouth is fucked, and the fact that he’s gagging and choking on the big, girthy cock being shoved down his throat doesn’t diminish the high from being pissed all over. It doesn't keep humiliation from scorching a red path along Ravus' cheeks when he helplessly moans around Gladiolus' cock, lips stretched taut around the shaft and spine tense with pleasure, kneeling in the remains of Gladiolus' urine. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, a physical reflex, as Gladiolus uses his lips and tongue and throat, and Ravus finds himself achingly hard throughout the entire process, desperate for some kind of relief.

When Ravus' throat Gladiolus’ length, the former Shield chuckles, low and hot. “That’s it, yeah…” His grip tightens in Ravus’ hair as he thrusts faster, and it’s all Ravus can do to remember to breathe as Gladiolus fucks his mouth in quick, steady strokes. “Gonna give you what you want.”

Ravus finds he does want, very badly, for Gladiolus to come in his mouth, to coat his tongue and throat with viscous, salty finish while as his body is still dripping with Gladiolus’ piss. It doesn’t take long until Gladiolus begins to pant and grunt, both hands fisted in Ravus’ urine-soaked hair, and finally come, groaning loudly and filling Ravus’ throat with his cock as his come shoots straight down it, thick, veiny dick pulsing between Ravus’ lips.

He swallows each and every drop like the whore he is.

Finally, Gladiolus releases his grip on Ravus’ head and steps back, looking down at him, literally and figuratively. His hazy eyes drop to Ravus’ cock, which is hard as steel and largely neglected throughout this entire process.

“Take a shower. Then… you know what to do.”

Ravus does.

There’s the barest tinge of regret as he lets the scalding water and cheap soap wash away any trace of Gladiolus’ piss from his body. One quick shower later, and he dries off with a ratty towel and exits the the bathroom, finding Gladiolus waiting on the bed and working his ass open with three of his own fingers.

He fucks Gladiolus hard, powerful legs hooked over his shoulders. He fucks him as hard as all the spite and resentment and bitterness in him allows, and Gladiolus takes all of it and more, groaning and moaning and sighing as Ravus buries his cock into his ass time and time again, balling his hands into his threadbare bed sheets as he rocks backwards onto Ravus’ cock.

When Ravus _finally_ comes, it’s only after Gladiolus’ second orgasm, and he could weep for a third time with relief as he spills his come inside of Gladiolus’ hole, as he withdraws and watches it leak from Gladiolus’ swollen rim and down his thick thighs.

This is quickly becoming a dangerous addiction.

One Ravus has no intention of stopping, not anytime soon.


End file.
